A/N: Alright, rather long author note here, so skip if you're not going to wait, or read on...

First up, I do not own the copyrights to the lyrics here, nor do I own the copyrights to the book reference here, nor do I own the copyrights to PnF. All copyrighted material are the properties of their respective owners(i.e. Simple Plan, Jay Asher and Disney).

I wrote this to get rid of my writer's block, but it turned out to be good enough to publish, and here it is! This could be longer then a oneshot though, tell me what you think: should I continue it or not? Oh, and about the story too. PM or review!

Okay, okay...begin!

With the radio turned up so loud, that no one hears you screaming…

Yup. Check.

Well you don't know what it's like, when nothing feels alright…

Yeah. Why do you think I listen? Do you think I want to feel like this?

Thought so.

You don't know what it's like, to be like me….

To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark…

Check, check, and check.

To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around…

Yes, yes and yes.

Welcome to my life…

Yup. Story of my life.

You may wonder how I got here. Long story cut short, don't wonder. It'll take more time for me to explain then what I have. Not to mention it'll probably be too painful as well. Matt Damon's checkered life is of no interest to anyone. In a week's time it'll all change. Everyone from child psychologists to criminal lawyers will want a piece of me.

I hate moving to new schools. It always seems like my parents have built up my hopes to knock them down every time. I know it's a cheap shot to blame them for everything, but it's a fact. I never had time for friends or anything. I suppose that in time I learned an important lesson: do not let your hopes get built up so easily, so that there will be nothing there for them to knock down. Yeah, I know, it's the easy way out, but it works.

I think my time in Danville is going to break records. It's easily the longest time I've stayed here. I can't help but feel awkward. Since I don't know if we're moving again, I don't know how at home to make myself here.

I suppose I've got to learn to live with it. Every school probably has it's own cultures and bullies. Every school has their own beautiful people who dominate it.

I don't think I can. It might be that there's already some deep-seated flaw with my thinking, but I don't think I can. I've tried letting it go, making friends with them. I've watched my efforts go to hell. I'm not in a hurry to try again.

I'm too tired to even type anymore. Perhaps tomorrow the world will end and I can go to hell. So goodnight and cheerio.

So the world hasn't ended. Wow.

You know the old adage, "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names can never hurt me?" Wrong. I prefer another proverb, "the tongue is mightier then the sword."

My grandpa used to tell me stories of how, in World War 2, he fought the Japanese. And the thing that demoralized him most was that the Japanese always hid their dead, so the Americans had no way of knowing how much damage they did, or if any damage had been done at all. It's like that with words. It may look as if those words don't hurt, but they do. Very much. It's just then you don't see it. Call me a sissy, a pussy- I don't care. It just gives me more ammo to use against you.

Go ahead. Do it.

You'll regret it either way.

Phineas looked up from his book. "Hey, Matt!"

Matt looked at the book Phineas was reading. Introduction to differential equations. "Working before the exam?"

"In hindsight, it might not have been such a good idea to start our fund-raising project just a week before my exam."

They both laughed. Then Matt became serious. "Phineas, I know this sounds crazy, but-"

"Please. Crazy doesn't exist in my dictionary. I can't talk, considering how many weird things I've done before I'm legally an adult."

Matt didn't laugh this time. "Look, Phineas, if you want my advice-"

"-for tomorrow's exam?"

"-stay away from school. I like you now. Go home."

Phineas looked at him oddly. "Why?"

"I can't tell you. Just stay at home."

Matt left Phineas in even more confusion then ever.

He decided he would ignore him and come tomorrow.

"Isabella, I told your boyfriend-"

"-friend-"

"-the same thing. You've got to stay away tomorrow."

"Why? Is everyone going to come down with the flu or something?"

Matt had no answer, and left Isabella alone.

Why did I warn them? Why? They could have spoiled everything. I guess the only reason was that I hoped they would be safe. I want them to be safe. They're probably the only people who've given me anything more then shit.

I don't know what I'm hoping for them to do. I guess the best-case scenario is that they'd tell all their friends about it, and they'll all stay away. That'll get everyone of interest out of the way. Most likely, though, they'll just ignore me and come tomorrow anyway. That'll be a problem.

Well, every campaign has collateral damage. I'll pack for school tomorrow, but I won't bring books.

It's morning. I lug my bag down as I always do. Breakfast today is the same fare. I eat it and then go off to school. I'm old enough to drive now, and that's what I do. I've left my note on Mom's desk. Of all the problems I've had in planning this, she was probably the biggest one. Don't get me wrong; I love her and everything. It's probably for that reason I've found it harder for me to do what I want to do.

It's now or never. One last thing to do. On the way to school I stop at the post office. I pick up the package that's sitting next to me and address it to a certain Phineas Flynn. Maybe he'll understand when he gets the package. Maybe not. Either way he'll get the package and I'll be too dead to care. I open it and count the contents inside, one to thirteen. Thirteen reasons why. I seal the box and drop it off at the post office.

I pull up at the school, knowing I have a mission to do.

Phineas looked around. Was he late for the test? He couldn't see anyone from his class that was around. He had to get moving. It was already eight-fifty.

He made it to the advanced math class, where Baljeet and about a dozen others were already setting out their calculators and pencils. Only one other person seemed to be running late.

His teacher checked off their names, "Phineas Flynn?"

"Present!"

He went on checking names. "Well, it seems we're all here save Matt. I really feel we can't wait anymore, so you may begin."

And Matt Damon disappeared in a sea of analytical geometry.

"Matt, you realize you missed the test, right?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does."

"But of course it does!"

"No, it doesn't. Listen, Baljeet-"

"-you can't retake it"

"-get out of here. Go home, grab all of your friends and leave. Now."

"But why?"

"Now!"

Baljeet left.

Course, it's near the end of school term. Everyone is in party mode, headed for summer. Summer is sacrosanct, right? No one is supposed to destroy it. College plans are discussed, summer vacations traded. So it was even more of a surprise when I pulled out the gun.

Phineas finally found Baljeet. "What are you doing here?" They were very near Maple Street.

"Matt told me to go home-"

"He told you too?"

"Yeah, you mean he told you?"

"Yeah. What does he mean?"

Phineas' cellphone rang. It was his mom. "Hello?"

"Oh, Phineas, I'm so glad you're safe! You have no idea how worried I was-"

"Whoa, what's this about?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Hard to, we've just left school-"

"Take a look back."

Linda Flynn put down the phone and stared at the television. Breaking news: Emerging crisis at Danville school.

"Six people have been confirmed killed by an unknown assailant at a Danville school. Police have refused to provide any further details on the case as yet…We now join our special correspondent in Danville, Bob Fischer.

She stopped watching. She didn't think she could look any further.

The police chief was talking.

"I-uh," he looked down at a piece of paper, "have received communication from the assailant that he has five people hostage. He requests that anyone by the name of Phineas Flynn be contacted immediately."

Phineas and Baljeet tried to push through the crowd surrounding the school. "What's going on?"

No-one heard them in the chaos.

"Everybody, move back now!" The police officer was trying to get people away from the school.

"Wait. Stop!" A second police officer was on the scene now. A megaphone was passed to him. He switched it on, and said:

"Which one of you is Phineas Flynn?"

"But why did you do it, Matt?"

"Why? Do you really want me to tell you why? Do I even need to tell you why?"

"Why us, then?"

"I could ask the same question about myself. Why was it me? Why does everyone like to pick on me and harass me? Is it because I'm a wimp? Someone who isn't going to stand up for himself?"

Phineas' breathing was the only thing on the other end.

"Okay, Phineas, I'll cut to the cheese. You've got a choice; if you say yes, you can save the hostages. If you say no, I'll just get the next person on my list to play my game."

"What d' you want me to do?"

"Play Russian Roulette with me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Deal, or no deal?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because that's the only reason the hostages are still alive."

"But…why me? I don't understand!"

"I think it's time I read out the names of the hostages."

Suddenly it hit Phineas.

"You don't have-"

"Mark Lawler, Adyson Speedwater, Morton Sobell, Larry Gomez and…"

Isabella Flynn.

"Isabella Garcia-Shapiro."

There was a short pause on both ends.

"Now, are you playing?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Phineas sat across Matt. The revolver sat in the middle of the table.

For a moment, no-one moved. The chill between the two settled and solidified the air between them. The library's many books seemed to focus on two figures, locked in battle over a reading table.

Then, Phineas let out a long sigh, slowly melting the tension.

"Go on, then."

In response, Matt rolled the single bullet across the desk. Phineas accepted it with surprise.

"How do you know I won't shoot you?"

"This." Matt raised his hand to reveal he was holding a clothes peg. Wedged in the clothes peg was a thin piece of pencil lead. The two ends of the clothes peg had wires attached to it. Following the wires as they snaked across the floor, Phineas could see that they led to a red box. Sitting around it, their eyes pleading, their hands and feet tied, were the five hostages. Isabella's eyes screamed for help. If Matt released the peg, they would all be blown to the other side of America.

"Okay then." Not daring to look away from Matt's grey eyes, he picked up the bullet and the gun. "What rules?"

"Normal rules. One bullet, six chambers, no re-spinning."

Phineas picked up the bullet and placed it into the revolver. Then he had an idea.

"So here's how we're going to play it. If I succeed, I release one hostage. If you succeed, I release one hostage. If you make it through, I release all five. The only problem is if you lose; well, you'd probably be too dead to care."

Phineas was numb, his body on autopilot. "Game on." He slid the gun across.

Matt grabbed the revolver. It felt oddly light to him.

He hesitated.

Then his hand fastened on the revolver.

In one fluid motion, he put the gun to his head and fired.

Click!

Matt smiled. "Looks like we get to play a little longer." He pointed at Adyson. "Go." Adyson left the two men and four hostages.

"Your go." Phineas' hand stopped the revolver. He felt the weight of it in his hand.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind. He had to ask it.

"You know, Matt, I don't understand you. If you hated life so much why didn't you just off yourself? Why everyone else? You're just bullying us now, ain't that right?" Phineas' voice rose higher and higher.

"Look at it from my point of view. Suicides are-what, a dime a dozen? Who reads about it? But here's the incident that the news media want. What's the point in going quietly? This place is just like any high school. People pick on other people without knowing the effects. Now they know. So in that sense, I'm a better teacher then teachers. Now, are you going to play?"

Phineas looked at the gun. He brought it to his head. He could not look at Isabella.

Matt waited.

Click!

"Very nice, very nice." Matt said as the gun slid back across the desk. He pointed at Larry. Larry got up, and somewhat awkwardly made his way out.

"Someday you'll understand. I guarantee it."

"Someday you'll pay. I'll guarantee it."

Matt just let out a bark of laughter. "Okay then." He regarded the revolver again. "It's weird, how I won't want to lose here, when barely an hour ago I didn't care what happened. Weird as well, how we're thrown together by fate, someone who might understand me."

"Understand what? Is there anything to understand?"

"Yes, there is. If you win, you'll go back home and maybe, in a while, it'll hit you. Literally."

"I should have told everyone to clear out."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe not. Where will I have my fun then?" He raised the gun again.

Click.

"This is becoming predictable, isn't it?" Matt tossed the gun back across and pointed at Mark. He left Morton and Isabella sitting around the bomb. Phineas looked at them again, and suddenly realized-

"Wait…if you die, they die too."

"That's right."

"No way! Give me the peg." How could I have been so dumb?

"Okay, fine." He placed the peg in the middle of the table. Phineas was quick to snatch it up before the graphite in the middle gave.

This surprised him. "I could just shoot you right now, you know." He stood up.

"And how do you know I don't have any back up plans?" Matt's grey eyes never wavered.

Phineas sat back down.

"That's right, you don't. I could tell you right now I don't have any other devices, and you'd still be forced to play my game. You can't call my bluff, either-the stakes are too high."

"And what if I do?"

"You can, but you won't. What, are you going to risk her life? Are you going to be the one that killed her?"

On another level Phineas had to respect it. His opponent was smart all right.

"Okay then. Okay. One in two, eh? Fine!"he said, with a confidence that masked his sheer terror.

The gun was raised again. Phineas pulled-

-and exhaled as the hammer hit an empty chamber.

"Let her go."

"Oh, I don't think so. Get out of here, Morton, before I change my mind."

And he left, leaving the three alone.

"This really is the denouement, isn't it?"

"One of us has to die, though. So before I shoot myself, I'd like to apologise first. In time you'll understand. Do not hate me; I bear you no malice. I merely needed someone to understand me, and in due course you will."

There was a certain sadness as he said that. Phineas could not look at his eyes.

"Goodbye, then." He raised the gun for the last time.

Click!

Isabella gasped.

"This means there's only one chamber left. You lose, Phineas."

He pointed the gun at Phineas and pulled the trigger.

Click!

"Huh?" Matt stared stupidly.

"Wrong. You lose."

The single bullet Phineas had palmed earlier tinkled onto the table.

Phineas was up before Matt could even close his mouth. He flipped his side of the table and pinned Matt beneath the table. The now-useless gun and bullet slid off the table.

But his side rose faster then he expected and nearly knocked the peg out of Phineas' hand. For one dangerous moment, Phineas watched as the peg nearly dropped.

Matt saw it too. He pushed his side of the table back up, as if to get at Phineas.

Phineas pushed it back down. Matt resisted-

"Isabella, get out!" Phineas screamed. Isabella looked too dazed to move. "Now!"

Matt suddenly gave in. The table rose on Phineas' side, knocking the peg out of his hands. It clattered to the floor and knocked the graphite loose.

For a split second, nothing moved except for the graphite, which was slipping out of the peg, slipping, slipping…

…and stopped.

It still kept the two ends apart. But only just.

Isabella grabbed a stunned Phineas and ran. And then looked back.

The graphite was slipping again. Matt was still there, pinned under the upended table.

"We can't leave Matt!"

"There's no time-"

Matt looked at Phineas. "Go!"

Phineas and Isabella fled, pausing only when they heard the explosion in the distance.

Fire alarms went off in the school.

They might as well have been church bells. Matt Damon was dead.

"But how did you react so fast?" Phineas had found a secluded spot, where the people gathered at their school could not find them.

"He told me." Isabella said simply.

"What?"

"He looked at me. I don't know, but for some reason I just knew he was telling me to make a break for it. Then he knocked the peg out of your hand, and I ran."

"You mean…he did it on purpose?"

"Yes, he did it on purpose. But he didn't mean to kill us. I think he knew I understood his warning. But you weren't going to let him go, or let him die. He couldn't face the world after what he'd done. So I simply prepared to run, and did so the moment he let go of the table."

"I don't get him! He says we'll understand somehow, and yet, when you've gone and killed six people, how do you expect me to get it? I mean, he could be a little clearer or something, right?"

"I don't know, Phineas. I don't know."

Phineas could ask no more questions, and just laid his head on Isabella shoulders.

It was a while before Isabella Flynn realized her shoulder was wet.